Experiment
by Paulsmum2001
Summary: This is an experiment. Possible involvement of an actual experiment too. I thought what if someone found the Zorro cave, 200 or so years after the events of New World Zorro. May be rubbish, but it sounds ok so far.
1. The Secret Cave

An Experiment

Chapter 1

She was arranging the ornaments on the mantelpiece when she found it. Some sort of deformity on the edge of the ledge itself. They would have to get that repaired, along with everything else.

She sighed, and ran her fingers across the cold stone. Maybe she could just push it back into place, it wasn't that obvious. She gently pushed. It moved as if there was a spring behind it, and maybe there was, because with a creak and a rattle, something moved in the fireplace. Dust billowed around her, and she coughed and spluttered. She stepped back, covering her eyes, and blinked a few times to try to dislodge the dust that had been trapped there.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"Not sure," she spluttered, acknowledging her handsome husband with a tired smile. Moving was hard, she thought. This place was amazing. A family treasure everyone had seemed to have forgotten about. Sure, it needed a lot of work, but she appreciated the old world charm.

He bent down and gazed intently at the fireplace.

"Wow," he said, impressed. "I always though secret passages in these old places was a fantasy. How wrong could I be?"

Secret passage? She bent down, and made a move to enter the small doorway in the fire place.

"Wait a minute. What about snakes?"

"Snakes? I'm sure it would be too cold in there for snakes. We would have seen it from the outside if there were any exposed areas. It must be part of the natural cave structures of the local area."

"Are you sure?" He thought for a moment. "Bats, then. Be careful of the critters…"

She grabbed an old fashioned looking poker and brandished it like a sword. "Happy now?"

He grinned sheepishly. His phobia was extreme, but she was his wife. They were days out of their honeymoon, he had the right to worry.

She entered and let out a little squeal of delight. He raced into the room, hearing a very muffled sound. He was pleased for her. As a history professor, she loved all this stuff. It looked very well preserved. There was a desk, still covered in papers, like some long dead person had only just left it. The coating of dust, probably inches thick, seemed to make the scene spooky and other worldly. The light in his wife's eyes made him smile. It might be boring to him and probably a lot of other people. She had stumbled on a gold mine worth of history.

"This looks like a stabling area," she was saying with excitement. "And this, oh wow."

He approached her as she lifted a huge, heavy sword and stumbled with the weight of it. "Careful, it's not a toy," he warned. "Don't want to get tetanus from the dusty thing."

"Shined up, this could go in a museum for everyone to see. It's Spanish in origin," she stated. "Toledo steel and everything."

"Going to take up fencing, my love?"

"There is a whole rack of rapiers right here. I could open a school," she said with a smile. She went slowly around the room, and found a busy little area with glass beakers and it reminded her of a science classroom. "Wow. Someone was very busy. This is an early science lab," she said. This is what made him approach with a little more interest.

His work was forensics. Early lab work would be fascinating on some levels. Whatever level the lab has achieved, the disarray was a little disappointing. Wait, was that a notebook? Someone knew their stuff, even back then. He flicked through the book, sending more dust flying. Faint ink scrawled elegantly across the page. Spanish, he realised with a small frown. He didn't know much of the language.

"Do you think this was a de la Vega secret?"

"Why?"

"Obviously a secret, otherwise all this wouldn't be here. And it has been in your family for about 250 years," she said logically. James Vega glanced at his beautiful wife and smiled.

"I wonder if old great great great great grandfather romanced his girlfriend in here."

"We'd have to work out the 'greats', I think," she said with a smile. "Let's get our history right, my love."

"Accuracy is important, of course," James said with an answering grin. He handed his eager wife the notebook, and she exclaimed over it. Spanish was another passion of hers.

She turned to the fly leaf at the front. "Diego de la Vega," she read in a whisper.

"He was the guy that started the newspaper. All round trouble maker in the end. Investigative journalist, in his younger years, probably invented the profession. He was always the editor, of course."

"And now your father is the owner of the "Guardian". You and your family, walking history of Los Angeles. The Vegas have been here the longest, I am sure," she said. Putting the notebook carefully down on the nearest level surface, she went and embraced her beloved.

"Diego de la Vega…do you think all this was his?"

"Why is it still here?"

"Maybe he just forgot about it?"

"Why was it a secret? Why didn't he just store all this somewhere else? The de la Vegas were always among the wealthiest people in Los Angeles. Surely he could have added on more rooms or something."

"Who knows? He was always incredibly smart, maybe he was eccentric or something. That must be where I get my love for forensics."

"Who would have been romanced here if it was Diego?"

"I thought you were the history prof. Let me see… no, I can't remember. There is a family tree somewhere. We can ring Grandma Vicki and get a copy I'm sure."

"I love this place, the prominence here is amazing. How could all this be forgotten? The house itself is still in quite good condition."

"The Vegas have a habit of holding onto things that belong to them."

"I have noticed, my dear."


	2. The Ring

Chapter 2

The Ring

James parked their small hatchback on the street near Grandma Vicki's house. The old lady was out on the porch, waiting on the swing, watching her great grandson and his new bride. What was her name again? Debbie? Cute name, she supposed.

"Hey Grandma Vicki, how are you?"

"All the better for a visit, not long now and I'll be in a nasty home for the elderly." James grinned and gave her a gentle hug. Debbie self-consciously followed her husband's example.

"You have been saying that since I was 16. Twenty years later, you are still going strong," he said with a smile. "This is my wife, Debbie. I rang you the other day because we found something unusual in the old house."

"Come in out of the heat," she responded. She was going to add 'children' but stopped herself. James was now 36 and a strong and mature man. Just because she was 89, didn't mean he was still a baby in a cradle.

The air conditioner hummed quietly. Her grandson made sure she was comfortable, but one day the home will be compulsory. Richard Vega was not a man who liked dependence of any sort. It had been a good move for his wife to leave when she had done, taking her young children with her. It had been a hard life for all of them when Richard had refused to support them, and hired lawyers to make sure that any obligations were null and void.

Vicki glanced at the young man. He was definitely his father's son, the de la Vega likeness even shone from his face. He even reminded her of her own father-in-law, all those years ago. The genes must be so dominant, she thought to herself.

"How is Bob's old place?" Her other grandson, defying his older brother, had stood by the nephew and niece, and James had inherited it just recently in his will. She missed Robert. He had been a favourite, she couldn't deny it. He had been steadfast and strong minded, as well as compassionate to people in need.

They all sat, and she poured tea from a beautiful old teapot into plain white tea cups that rested on their saucers.

"We found such a wonderful thing in the old house," Debbie said with excitement. Her voice was soft and serious, and her eyes were pretty, Vicki decided.

Vicki watched the couple closely for a few seconds. "Yes, my dear?"

"It's a hidden passageway. A secret passage," James explained.

Vicki stilled, and remembered. She remembered all the wonderful times in that house. She remembered her father in law talking about all the old stories. A passage way factored in something, some fairy-tale passed down through the generations. She had forgotten up until that moment.

"So there may be fact in the old stories after all," Vicki said, half to herself. Debbie was quiet and watched the old lady's face.

"I thought it might have had something to do with the early Spanish settlers. There were frequent Indian attacks in the very early days," Debbie said seriously. Vicki raised her eyebrows.

"You're interested in Alta California?"

"I'm a history professor in my spare time," Debbie admitted with a laugh. "I'm on extended leave."

"Well, that's _different_. No one really wants to know about the past anymore. James, will you please go to the top drawer in my desk over there. I'd do it, but the arthritis is playing up a little today," Vicki said, and watched as her great grandson acted as a perfect gentleman and did as he was asked.

"What am I looking for, Grandma?"

"There is a rather large ring with a pretty stone in it. Can you bring it over here?"

He scooped the ring into his hand, and brought it back to the group of chairs. "It's pretty…" He said, with a shade of doubt that made his great grandma laugh. In her opinion, it was garish and overdone. She had worn it more for the sake of her beloved husband, than for her own desire for it.

"Pretty horrible," Vicki said still smiling.

"I think it is beautiful. Can I see it better?"

"Deb, sweetie, it's nothing very special. Just costume jewellery, just trash," James said.

"No." The strong serious tone in the elderly woman surprised the couple. "No, actually it isn't. Not trash. That red stone is a ruby, and the little diamonds are real diamonds." The older lady handed Debbie the ring. Debbie's hands trembled, and she wanted to hand it back.

"No, you can't break it," the lady said with a snort of amusement.

Debbie held it in her hand, turning it to catch the light. It was beautiful to her eyes. She turned it again, and her eyes caught the inscription on the underside. "D & V" was engraved on the ring.

David and Vicki, that was romantic. "It was nice to have your husband and your name etched into the ring. It must have cost a fortune."

The lady looked at her curiously and smiled strangely. "No. It was already inscribed before us. Diego and Victoria. See the wear, it can barely be seen. Hardly anyone notices it these days," she answered.

Debbie couldn't see how it could be missed. It stood out so clearly, and she showed her curious husband. "See, just here," she said, pointing out the obvious letters. Obvious to her, but not to James.

"I don't see anything. You have history on the brain, my dear."

"If you'd like, you can keep it, Debbie. I can't use it, it never really appealed to me since my husband died. But it is a treasure, as a ruby and as a memory." Vicki said, enjoying the shocked look in her new relative's face. Debbie slipped the ring on her finger where her wedding band sat. "Consider it the engagement ring James should have bought you…" The old lady glared at James.

"We couldn't find any I liked. I got so amazingly fussy. This would be perfect, James," Debbie said, breathlessly.

The ring fitted perfectly. It felt warm and comfortable on her finger, and somehow it felt like it had always been hers.

"My wife is an amazing woman," he said, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a squeeze. "Do you know Diego means James in Spanish?"

"Of course, every time Diego's name is mentioned I get a reminder. How you can be jealous of your great, great, great, great, great, great, grandfather is beyond me. Yes, that's right, your 5th great grandfather. Even if he rose from the dead, I'm sure a rotting zombie would not tempt me away from you, my love."

"Would you like to see a picture of Diego de la Vega," Vicki said. She got up and walked to her small bedroom, and dragged a box out from under her bed. Rifling through the papers and records, she returned with a foolscap folder and sat back down. She opened it up to show them the family history.


	3. Freaky Thoughts

Chapter 3

Freaky Thoughts

Debbie always woke first, and she went to get the early morning coffee as usual. She hummed to herself, listening to the cheerful nothingness of the radio. She raised her left hand to adjust the antenna of the cheap radio. The darn thing was getting all staticky. As her hand neared the antenna it got a lot worse. She frowned. It certainly hadn't done that yesterday. Electronics and radio waves confused her, just as much as Spanish confused James.

James joined her before she had really started on the coffee.

"What's up, querida?" He said. She raised her eyebrows.

"Spanish accent needs work, it's not helpful if you put a silly voice on while doing it," she said, with a slight frown.

"Here, let me," James said, setting up for coffee. "Hope instant is ok."

"Hmm," Debbie replied, sitting at the small kitchen table. She watched James fill the kettle with hot water, and turn the electric switch on to boil it. He brought two of their wedding present mugs out of the cupboard, and put a teaspoon of instant coffee into each. Two teaspoons of sugar went in next.

"Are we out of milk?"

"Wha..?"

"Never mind, sweetie," James said, going to the fridge to find out the answer to his question. He put a dash of milk into each cup and leant against the bench, watching his wife.

"Are you feeling ok?" James asked with a little bit of concern.

She shook herself with an obvious effort, and made herself smile. "Just tired. I've had dreams again," Debbie said with a small yawn.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I can't remember them. Must be something about the little portraits Grandma Vicki gave us. They are a bit freaky."

"Family resemblance is really strong, that's all."

"Diego de la Vega is your exact double, James. Don't you find that incredible?"

"His eyes are wrong for one, Deb. And that happens in families. My best friend's dad looked just like a photograph of his great grandfather."

"We are in his home, Diego's hacienda. We've been in his secret cave; I'm wearing his wife's ring. Don't you think it's creepy? And then the radio went all funny too…"

James laughed. "The radio has bad reception, you know that. We can stay out of the cave, we can transport all those historical things to the museum, you can take the silly ring off. We could even sell up and move if that's what will make you happy."

James wrapped his very strong arms around her, and hugged her. She loved the feeling of being completely protected, and she relaxed, as he kissed her gently on the lips. His mouth travelled to her cheeks and forehead, and as she felt the little tingles of fire starting to spread all over her body, and the flush of excitement wherever his lips had touched, she sighed and gently pushed him away slightly.

"First day back at work, James. Don't be naughty," she murmured, reluctantly. "Let's have that coffee," she added, as the kettle whistled and shut itself off.

"So?" He said as he finished stirring the coffees and putting them down on the table.

"What?"

"So, do you want to sell the ring? Do you want to move?"

"Don't be silly. What's a few dreams? The place isn't haunted, is it?"

"I haven't seen any ghosts yet, have you?"

She giggled a little nervously. "What would we do if we did?"

"You could ask Senor de la Vega all your history questions, and I will ask him about his science lab?"

"_Don_ Diego, let's remember our manners," Debbie said, joining the joke. "Seriously, though, didn't Diego die quite young, under mysterious circumstances? Isn't that what sparks all those sorts of things – like Buckingham Palace ghosts and all that?"

"No such thing. Will you be alright? Are you sure you don't want to go back to the university earlier than planned?"

"I'm not a baby, James. I need to keep getting this place organised. What if the great Richard Vega wants to visit?"

"I will say 'over my dead body'. That man is hardly welcome anywhere near me, let alone you. We don't have to pander to the great man's expectations. His behaviour in the past was completely inexcusable. The only ones we have to please if you and me, and no one else."

"I'm sorry…"

He kissed her again. "The only room I care about is our own room. We don't need anyone else."

"Of course not," she said, a little doubtfully. "My family might want to visit though…."

"Well, then we will both race around like crazy and sort it out on the day. Are you hoarding chocolate wrappers already?"

She grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Remember that beautiful bedside manner, dear," she said, as they breathed in the coffee vapours and sighed. Today would be long and lonely, for both of them.

After James had had a quick shower and shave, and brushed his hair, and changed into his smart suit and tie, she felt like taking him back to bed for a cuddle. She shook herself, and smiled. Dr James Vega, aka Mr Irresistible. He grinned back at her, seemingly reading her thoughts. Beautiful chocolate brown eyes glowed with love and passion. He kept his hand on the doorknob as they kissed at the door, and when he drove off in the hatchback, Debbie watched as long as possible as the car disappeared into the distance and joined traffic.

She was still in her cat pyjamas and pink fluffy robe. Such a proper housewife. She almost laughed at herself. After a rushed shower, she changed into her work clothes: jeans and a cotton top. She tied her medium length hair with a hair thingy and went into the secret cave.

The rattle drove her crazy and leaving the door open, she went and fetched some oil to grease the pullies that seemed to work the mechanism. Oiling the pullies was easy enough, and she ran a dust rag around the things as well. It could be their little secret cave too, Debbie thought to herself. It definitely seemed sound proof, and she discovered little eye holes all around the room, making her wonder why they were there. It would be a great hiding place, or a secret lair. Bumping a candle holder in the wall, she managed to close the fireplace door. She smiled. Another secret stumbled upon.

She remembered going through the portraits and photos in Grandma Vicki's collection. Little Richard and little Robert sat reluctantly in a professional photo, even then not very happy to be together. Richard and Sarah's wedding, and then the couple with little James and Elena. Daniel Vega and Vicki's wedding, which had seemed such a joyous occasion. The resemblance of Richard and Daniel to James wasn't as striking as the first portrait of Diego de la Vega that Vicki had taken great delight in showing her. It had been a copy of an original, apparently now hanging in Richard Vega's grand mansion.

Her husband's ancestor was strikingly handsome, and his brilliant blue eyes seemed to be watching her intently from the portrait. He stood in the picture, and his wife Victoria held his twins, a boy and a girl. They were infants. All their clothes had been of the finest quality money could buy at the time, and the babies were wrapped in lacy shawls. Victoria and Diego seemed very aware of each other, Diego's hand sat protectively on Victoria's shoulder, and as the twins rested in their mother's lap, she had held that hand securely, while her other hand supported the babies. The love in their eyes was obvious even after 200 years of history.

She wasn't paying attention to dates and events, for maybe the first time in her life. She was vaguely aware of Diego's early death; the twins had grown up not knowing the father that had helped bring them into the world. The details were sketchy, but some sort of accident was involved. She really would have to look into it.

She opened the first drawer in the large desk, and peered into it. It seemed empty, but it wasn't. Something was tacked down with old fashioned pins to the back of the drawer. The drawer was sticking and refusing to open all the way, but with a determined and educated pull she managed to dislodge the drawer. The effort sent her flying backwards into the wall. She struck her head very hard and lost consciousness.


	4. Diego de la Vega

Chapter 4

Diego de la Vega

Debbie groaned, as she woke on the cold stone floor. Putting her hand to her head, she felt the lump on the back of her head. Blood coated her fingers, and she shuddered. The room spun as she used a very beautiful chair to pull herself up into a standing position. Stumbling a little, she let herself fall into the chair.

"I'm sure this wasn't there before," she mumbled to herself. Candlelight flickered in the room. Can't be candlelight, there must be an opening to the outside after all.

She scanned the secret room again, with her bleary eyes, as she fought the waves of dizziness. She thought she might pass out from the pain of the headache that was building.

The room was all wrong. There was less dust for one thing, and everything looked newer. She shook her head a little, and hoped James would come and find her soon. Waves of pain followed and she rested her head on her folded arms.

She woke a little later. A strange teenager was shaking her shoulder frantically. She couldn't really make out if it was boy or girl because of her dizziness.

"What are you doing here?" She wanted to say, but she was way too dizzy. She saw the period clothing he was wearing, dating it to be Alta California in origin and assumed she was still dreaming. She closed her eyes again, to block out the pain in her head.

She was gently shaken awake again, not so frantically. Her eyes drifted open warily, remembering the shooting pain. It was James! Thank goodness.

"James," she murmured, reaching out to touch his face, to prove he was real.

He looked at her strangely and said something she couldn't understand.

"James," she tried again. Her eyes cleared a little. "What have you done to your eyes?"

She lost consciousness as she pondered the question. Blue contacts, that was taking the jealousy a little far, she thought. And had he been speaking very fluent Spanish?

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She woke much later in a soft unfamiliar bed. Hmm, not a hospital bed, she thought. Obviously she hadn't gotten too bad an injury; Dr Vega would have fussed over her like a mother hen. Her head still ached and her eyes still were not well focused.

James sat by her bedside, and was watching her wake slowly. He didn't jump up to hold her, like he had after than accident a few years ago. He was sitting, leaning forward with a soft piece of material, as if he had been sponging her forehead. He had such blue eyes, she thought and smiled. He had been so worried about her that he had forgotten to remove them.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked gently. His voice sounded strange to her ears, he didn't sound quite right to her.

"What do you mean? Oh, checking for concussion," Debbie said a little confused. The handsome man nodded with a smile.

"Full name?" He nodded again. "Deborah Ellen Vega," she said with confidence, after all it was her own name. His eye brows rose slightly, and he smiled. How she loved that smile! His brown chocolate eyes would glow with love and she would drown in the richness of them. She frowned. The blue was too real. Why were they not their right colour?

"What year do you think it is, Deborah?"

He stumbled over Deborah, which was strange. She preferred Debbie of course, but it seemed as if he had forgotten that. "What do you mean? Think it is?"

"More questions, concussion, remember," he said gently.

"2012 of course. Don't play silly games with me James Vega! My head hurts and everything is right and wrong at same time, and this isn't funny!"

"Can you tell me what happened to cause the bump on your head?"

"Can you stop talking like the silly doctor you are and hold me? I am your wife!"

The handsome man sighed, and frowned. "I am not James Vega. You are mistaking me for someone else."

She raised her eyebrows at that one. "Maybe we should do a DNA test. You look like James Vega…only you have blue eyes. What have you done with your eyes?"

"DNA test?" The look of bewilderment that passed across the man's face was completely genuine. "What's that?"

"Something to prove you are who you say you are. If you are not James, then who are you?"

"You are in my home. My name is Diego de la Vega, son of Don Alejandro de la Vega," he said. The pride in his voice was diminished by the way he looked across the room at nothing as he answered.

"What year do you think it is?" Debbie said with a little hesitation.

"The year is definitely 1816, senora. I can prove it by introducing my father," Diego said with a slight frown.

"Have you gone crazy, or have I?" Debbie said softly.

"What could I have done with my eyes?"

She waved the question away with her hands, impatiently. She was trying to think, and the thoughts weren't making much sense to her. "Contacts of course," she muttered, because she needed to get it out of the way, so she could concentrate.

"Of course," he said with a puzzled frown. "What else?"

She glanced at him, recognising her husband's humour in his confusion. That must be genetic too, as well as the incredibly gorgeous exterior.

"So all those things in the cave? They are yours?"

"The cave?" Diego queried.

"Don't pretend that it's not there," she started to say. "Oh, it must be a secret. Sorry…"

"I did find you there. How did you get there? No one saw you come through the house, and the exit is hidden. What happened up to that point?"

"Well, I got up early to put the kettle on, as usual, and I started to make the coffee. James had to go off to work, and I wanted to go through the cave things. There was something stuck in that desk drawer and I am a curious person. I tugged at the thing, and slammed myself into the wall."

"Where were you? In the cave?"

"It was 2012, and this is _our_ home. Uncle Robert left us the house, and James works in the local hospital. We just moved in and we found the cave," Debbie said.

"2012. I'm still not sure if this can be happening," Diego said doubtfully. "It was quite a knock to the head. I don't know what I should tell my father."

"Why did you leave all those things behind? They all seemed very personal," she murmured.

"Obviously I never came home when I'd planned to," Diego said, a little horrified by the concept. The cave had sat undiscovered for almost 200 years. But Felipe knew of the cave, he was always in and out. And those letters that he had written the other week, to be handed out in the event of his death, surely someone would have known about the cave through those?

"Oh, I'm sorry. Why have a cave of secrets anyway? Are you Batman or something?"

He looked at her as if she was completely mad. She sighed with frustration.

"Communicating with you is hard, de la Vega. Can we swap to Spanish?" It was her first language, and even though languages were a snap for her, she was having so much trouble that she needed to make it a litter simpler.

"Do you think that would be easier?" He said in his perfect Spanish. The rich tone of his voice mesmerised her for a moment and she blushed. "I don't see how. We obviously have completely different perceptions of reality. Did the world change so much?" He was beginning to believe she was genuine. No one could be this detailed, even in madness. And he frowned. "And just who is Batman?"


	5. Observations

Chapter 5

Observation

Debbie looked at him with bewilderment. He was amazing. The Diego de la Vega? It seemed just crazy enough to be true.

"Where is your wife? Victoria? Surely she wouldn't like you to be talking to a strange lady and not be informed about it?"

Diego turned startled eyes to hers. A blush crept over his face, and he cleared his throat. He stood and tried to say something and then stopped.

"No Victoria, then. I really should have been more aware of the dates. This is embarrassing," Debbie said half to herself. He sat down in the chair that he had pushed towards the bed.

"So…I marry Victoria…"

"You say it as if it was a shock. You probably don't even know her yet."

"I've known her all my life," he said in a whisper. "When…what year?"

Debbie's head was a blur. It was frustrating and interesting at the same time. She was normally so good with dates and events. It came with the job, after all. She had almost a photographic memory, so why were all the dates blurry?

"Never mind, concussion does make people confused," Diego said, his eyes picking up her frown and thoughtful face. "And maybe it is against the rules or something?"

"Rules?"

"You seem to have travelled through time. Is that normal where you come from?"

"I think I'm probably dreaming," Debbie said with a little smile.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well the other day we visited Grandma Vicki and looked at all the old pictures of the family. The Vegas and the de la Vegas. You look so much like my husband, and then there was the ring she gave me." Debbie held out her left hand to display the ruby ring.

Diego gasped in spite of himself. It was so similar to his mother's ring, the one he had already given Victoria on their engagement, that he considered the possibility of it being the same one.

"It even has D&V etched on the band, on the underside of course." She went to take it off her finger to show him and as the ring came off her finger, the lights in the room flickered and went out.

She woke in the cave, moaning, in her husband's arms. James had only just discovered her, and had been frantically calling her name. She groaned a little more, and threw her arms around him.

"Oh James! What a dream!" She whispered. Her head hurt a lot, and she was shivering in the dark. The torch that she had carried down into the cave had gone out.

"Not too much movement, my love. Let me look at that bump," James murmured, and his gentle fingers probed at the lump. Not too bad, but she had seemed so still a moment ago, and who knew how long she had laid there.

"What time is it?"

"Can you tell me your full name?"

"I've only just gone through this….Deborah Ellen Vega, of course. Show me your eyes," she said, suddenly demanding. He shone the torch he held in his face and beautiful rich brown eyes twinkled back in the light, worried and serious.

"What year?"

"2012. What would you say the year was?"

"Same. You were dreaming?"

"Crazy, very real, very lucid. It was like I time travelled or some such rot."

"Too much sci fi before lights out," he said with a slight smile. "Let me guess, Diego de la Vega was embracing you in the moonlight, astride a beautiful white horse," he added, and saw the light come on in his wife's eyes. "Should I be jealous?"

"No, I was cranky with him because his eyes were blue and he thought I was mad for a while," Debbie said thoughtfully. "Though if you were to embrace me in the moonlight on a white horse, I wouldn't complain."

"I have no horse, and that bump needs a scan, I think," James said with a sigh. He helped her up and supported her as she swayed a little. "Definitely needs a scan. I think I will put you in for observation."

"Really? Oh no. I had so much to do here," she complained. The headache started again like before. "Only if you can stay with me."

"I'm on duty, I just came home to check on you at lunch, because you wouldn't answer the phone. I can pop in on you from time to time," James said reluctantly. She pouted at him, and he kissed her quickly but gently on the lips and led her out to the car.

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James insisted on her staying at hospital for 24 hours, due to the fact he wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious. He had been relieved that she seemed to be normal, which for her was slightly scatterbrained and obsessive with funny little details. She seemed to see the funny side of life, which was what he drawn him to her in the first place. The scan had eased his mind, slight concussion but not serious at all.

"I want those family tree pages, the ones about Diego," she said when he visited her. "How long is your shift?"

"I'm doing a double, so I can keep popping in to check you," James said, watching his wife carefully as she drank her coffee.

"Thanks," she said with a tired smile.

"Rest and sleep, Dr Vega's orders," he said. "Do you need something to help?"

"Yes, those pages."

"I think I said no excitement for 24 hours."

"Then why are you here then? You know you raise my blood pressure, especially in that doctor's coat of yours."

"Cheeky." He glanced at the coffee in her hand. "Coffee is no good for you. Why did you let that slip by me?"

"I need my coffee," she said with a sneaky grin.

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James brought in the family tree pages they had copied from Grandma Vicki's records. She grabbed for them with so much enthusiasm that he laughed.

"I can stay for a coffee but then I'm gone," he said, placing the folder on her lap. She sat in bed now, and the headache was pretty much gone. There was more colour in her cheeks and he was happy to be able to take her home after his shift ended.

"What does Ian think of you taking over his patient," she asked, looking up from the papers.

"Ian has a wife too, he understands," James answered. "I didn't argue with him and though I may have overreacted a little, he humoured my cautious extra orders."

"A little?"

"And what of Diego? Died a tragic death of the age of 30 or some such thing? Consumption or whatever?" He was being melodramatic, making fun of the whole thing. She wanted to throw something at him. History wasn't a joke! But she smiled in spite of herself. He liked to press her buttons in play.

"You!"

"You forgot to ask about the lab, didn't you? Didn't get your questions answered."

She rifled through the notes. "I thought it was pretty clear cut. Some sort of accidental death shortly after the birth of the twins. I can't even remember the rough date," she said with frustration.

"Well, a bash to the head does scramble things sometimes. I'm glad that you didn't wake up thinking I was Diego and that you were Victoria. I'm glad that you are ok. Give the dates time to settle in your head, you've had concussion."

"You made a good copy. When he started to talk in that perfect Spanish, I knew for a fact it wasn't you, but up until then I wasn't sure." She thought for a moment. "Where did the ring go?"

"It wasn't on your finger when I found you. You must have taken it off somewhere along the line. I'll see if it's in your pocket or something. Stay there, I want you to stay in bed a little longer."

He went through the luggage that sat under the visitor's chair.

"I was holding it. I took off the ring, and then I woke up…"

"Just a dream, remember. I don't want you running about knocking yourself out so you can visit via ring time travel. Just be content to admire the man from afar. Good looks aren't everything you know."

"He reminded me of you, even his body language was the same," she said.

"Your mind used me as a template and added the picture Grandma Vicki gave you. You had all the information needed. Dreams are not fact, they are constructs," James said, and Debbie sighed.

"You and your obsessions, James. You really should study psychiatry or something. Do what you love. You know, Diego sounded so medical when he was there. He was checking me for concussion as well."

"Good to know that someone was looking after you," he murmured, holding her close and kissing her carefully on her hair.

"Now I am really very busy," they managed to say at the same time, and they laughed. He squeezed her hand and assured her that he would pop in around lunch time. And then he was striding off out of the room and down the hall, doing his rounds.

She had her head buried in the old records. Hand written notes and photocopied certificates enthralled her all the way to lunch time, and when her husband entered she frowned at him. "I thought you had to do your rounds," she half growled at him when he leant over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Over and done with, and I've had lunch. I couldn't wait anymore, so I risked the dragon's ire and came to see you."

"Dragon's ire?"

"You're working, and you are a little like a dragon when you're working, my love. Smoke comes out of your ears when someone interrupts," James said, kissing her again. She sighed, and put the papers down.

"Now, I want you to eat this lovely healthy lunch, so we can go home to our wonderful haunted house," James added, passing the bland looking meat and three veg towards her. She gobbled it down without thinking, and glanced at her papers again. He humoured her for about half an hour, and then declared he was tired and wanted to go home.

He took the papers and the bag to the car, while she had a shower and changed back into her jeans and t shirt. Her hands checked the pockets carefully, and she was relieved to find the ring had been in her pocket all along. She was surprised that James hadn't found it when he had checked. It was warm and staticky and she wondered at the static electricity levels in the hospital.

"Look what I found, James," she exclaimed, waving the ring around enthusiastically, when he returned for her. She pushed it onto her finger again, and it seemed to vibrate this time. The static electricity was a little excitable today, she thought.

He smiled and shook his head with mock condemnation. She laughed and linked her arm with his and they left the hospital.


	6. James and Diego

Chapter 6

James and Diego

James monitored Debbie while she slept. He couldn't sleep, and he rolled onto his side to watch her. She slept, as she always slept, soundly and deeply. Her breath came in and out, regular and normal, and she mumbled things in her sleep, every now and then. Her ring sat on the bedside table, catching moonlight with the diamonds. He wondered if he was disturbing her rest, and lay back down to look at the ceiling.

Diego had looked at this same ceiling, this had always been the master bedroom, and it was pretty much the same as it had always been. James felt a little jealous, but it was as if he was jealous of himself, and he felt a little ashamed of himself. And it was like being jealous of Tutankhamen. He wondered how spouses survived historians' passions.

The man had looked just like him other than his eyes. Debbie had imagined him to be medically minded. In the dream, she had looked at that man and believed it to be him. He really didn't know how he felt about that. He needed sleep, he realised. Double shifts were always the hardest on him, and his mind took a long time to relax.

He got out of bed and went to the old library. There was something eerily peaceful about the room. Maybe they did have ghosts after all? He triggered the secret door, and grabbing a torch from where they had left them near the candle holder closing device, ventured down into the chilly darkness.

He clicked the light on. There was an old chest by a corner. He hadn't noticed it before, and he went up to it now. Brushing off dust, he examined the front and sides. Very fine wood for a chest. He tried to open the lid, expecting it to be locked. With a rusty squeak, the chest opened.

Silky material caught his eyes. Black satin or silk. He reached his hand out to touch it, revelling in its texture and fineness. Someone had stored evening dresses in here. The cave was not quite so secret after all. Maybe his ancestors' ball gowns would fit Debbie? He reached out and carefully lifted the material out.

It was some sort of blouse, no. It was a shirt, a man's shirt. He frowned and went back to the box, after draping the shirt over a chair. There was a pair of trousers as well. A cape? A mask? What did all this mean?

There was a notebook on the bottom of the chest. He grabbed it and hoped it was easy to understand.

"My name is Diego de la Vega, son of the great Alejandro de la Vega and his wife Elena. I am writing this in English, because California is becoming more Americano every day.

I had a curious experience a few weeks ago and I am writing this down, because as an experience it was extraordinary. I met a woman who knew everything about me and nothing about me. Very strange. Writing it down may help me understand. It seems to be some sort of science (magic is too fanciful), and writing data down is very calming at the best of times.

The woman was suffering from a slight concussion. Felipe had found her on the floor of the cave, bleeding a little from the head. She was dazed and confused when she woke, which is hardly surprising. Her clothes were a little scandalous as well, making her look more like a boy than a woman of around 26 years old. She confused me with her husband and it appears I am his equal in everything except his brown eyes, mine are inferior I think she said.

She tells me I am married to Victoria. That idea threw me, but then she stumbled on the date. She got quite frustrated and I had to calm her. She also said she was now living here in the far future, and that she and her husband had stumbled on the cave, with all of my possessions still on view.

How am I to take this news? I really have no idea, but I dread the possible reasons for this. Have I died before my time? I know everyone dies, but still, to meet someone who may or may not come from the future, that seems to know secrets that no one else knows, it is a little terrifying, if a de la Vega can be permitted to confess fear."

James looked up and tried to process the writing. It seemed to back up what Debbie had babbled about as she had recovered.

"I would have been able to put it out of my mind, if not for certain other occurrences. She brought forth Mother's ring; it was so similar it had to be the same ring. As she took it off her finger to show me, a blinding flash of light blazed forth and she vanished. I do believe her story in its entirety now after witnessing that. Perhaps some sort of natural phenomenon? The Indians who used to live near the caves say that strange things happen around here, their legends are extraordinary."

James sat up, and standing up shakily from exhaustion, he brought the book and the mask out into the library, turning on the electric light to read properly. Sitting on the modern sofa in the old room, he leant back to read, and soon drifted off to sleep.

Something made him wake shortly afterwards. He wandered back down to the secret cave and checked something, something wasn't quite right. He noticed a rough cot in a corner. The thing was dusty and Deb would take issue with the ancientness of the thing, complaining about his carelessness, but he lay down on it to look at the ceiling. Why have a camping cot in here? They really hadn't checked the cave out very thoroughly at all. Why would Diego have this down here, when he had a perfectly comfortable bed in his room? Without realising, he fell into a deep sleep with the notebook and the mask clasped in his hand as it rested on his chest.


	7. Face to Face

Chapter 7

Face to Face

He was woken by a teenage boy, shaking him. He blinked up at the boy. He wore loose white clothes, which seemed to belong to another century. His eyes were anxious, and he seemed afraid that he wasn't going to wake.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" He said, and the boy shook his head, and stared open mouthed at his face. He made some signs, and James was quick enough to realise he was hearing impaired on some level, or at least speech impaired.

James tried some signed English, but got nowhere with the boy. The boy pointed two fingers towards his face. Eyes. What was wrong with his eyes? He glanced down at the book in his hand, and flicked the page open. No writing was there, which was weird. Oh, they must be the wrong colour, he realised. This boy must be Diego's son or something. He hadn't known that deafness had run in the family.

The boy stopped trying to communicate with him and was trying his best to ignore him. James sighed, he had been written off as some sort of hallucination. Well, if he put himself in the child's position, he would have ignored him as well. The boy went to tend to something boiling in a primitive beaker, and James followed him with curiosity. Whatever it was it smelt disgusting.

The boy noticed his curiosity and gestured to a cluster of grenade shaped devices nearby. Grenades? There was the noise of a horse returning, and someone dismounting behind them.

"Smoke bombs," a voice said. It was a strong voice, and reminded James of his Uncle Robert. Rich and deep, and a thrill of anxiety run through James, as he turned carefully.

"You must be James," the man said, offering a hand. James hesitated and then shook the hand. "I am Diego de la Vega. The boy you met earlier is Felipe. He's my adopted son."

"I think I need to sit down," James said, stumbling over the words. Diego led him to the desk, and found another chair. Diego poured him a drink from a jug, which James smelled suspiciously. He was confused already, and he knew the old fashioned remedy for shock was a shot of alcohol.

"Camomile tea. If you're anything like me mentally, I don't appreciate strangers dulling my reason with alcohol. You can tell by smell," he said, as if to a child. James sipped it and nodded.

"It's cold, because it's been sticky and hot around here," Diego said, and shook his head. "How is this happening?"

"What?"

"First your wife, then you."

"I'm dreaming. I had a rough shift at the hospital. I am a doctor. And Debbie with her head, of course, I was worried. And she was babbling about meeting you. It's affecting my sleep," James said thoughtfully.

"That was about a month ago," Diego said.

"A month," James said, and shook his head. "Try a day and a half ago."

"You have the ring with you? I wouldn't have thought it would fit on your finger."

"No. My hands are like yours, broad and the fingers are broad as well," he said, looking down at his hands. He realised he was still holding the mask and the notebook, and he lifted them out into Diego's view.

"These are yours, I believe."

Diego stared at them with concern. The mask didn't seem damaged…

"Where did you find the mask?"

"Over there, in that chest. I couldn't sleep and I got curious. There were other things too." James stared at his ancestor. "Why would you need to hide a masquerade costume?"

"Masquerade costume?" Diego said absentmindedly. Had he never told anyone except Felipe? Had he died when Felipe was away? Had Felipe died before him? He shuddered a little at the thought, but James didn't notice. It was his spare, he reasoned. He had more than one; it was bound to be a spare.

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

James held onto one of the edges of the fabric, a little possessively. He didn't want to lose it here, he reasoned.

Diego run his fingers over the fabric with wonder. Not even moth eaten, he thought. Obviously the experiment to deter bugs had worked, but 200 years? It seemed as new as when he had made it. He thought about the cave being undisturbed for so long. He thought for a moment. His descendant didn't even guess the obvious - that Diego was Zorro. The tale must have been lost in time, and he wondered how much had been forgotten.

"What does all this mean? And what do I call you? Grandpa?"

Diego frowned at him and then saw the humour in the strange situation. "Only if I can call you boy."

James laughed. Diego drew him over to the full length mirror and showed him just how similar they were. James was shocked. They were twins, born 200 years apart, identical in every way except for their eyes. Exactly the same height, same build, same hair, and same age by the look of it.

"Diego, what does all this mean?"

"Who knows? If I have to introduce you to anyone, I will have to say you are some sort of relative, because the likeness is extraordinary."

"If my wife reappears at some stage do not feed any hero worship. I have enough trouble with being jealous of you already, and that was on paper and with the distance of centuries."

"There is someone else; my heart is well and truly taken." Diego said with a smile. "Hero worship?"

"In the notebook you described Debbie as around 26. She'd be flattered, she's actually 30."

"Notebook?"

"You decided to document all this, and it was very intriguing. I was just reading it before I fell asleep. In the cave. Hmm?"

"Something about the cave is triggering this travel phenomenon? Makes sense. With you it appears the mask triggers the transport."

"It has some sort of deep connection to you, perhaps? Some sort of psychic link?"

Diego thought about it, and nodded. "This mask is very important to me, yes. And the ring. Perhaps another link is your physical resemblance. But if you are the first people to find the cave since my time, perhaps there was always a possibility of this."

Diego went over to his desk, and James followed. Diego found some papers and was rifling through them. "Always at night, is that a coincidence? Or the way it works? I wrote down some Indian legends about the cave system a few years ago and I was thinking of going through them for some clues." Diego looked up at the other man. "The Indians go nowhere near this place; it's actually taboo. Maybe it has happened before to some of their ancestors. Ghosts. But from the future? Incredible really."

James leant on the desk, and let the mask fall onto the table top. The air was charged with electricity and the air felt hot. There was a blinding flash of light, and when it cleared the cave was empty again. He was standing at the desk, with the mask on the table top. It was dark and James felt his way around the wall to the opening mechanism. Opening it, he stumbled into the old library and into the light. The electric light hurt his eyes for a moment, as Diego had lit the cave with candles.

He wondered if he had been dreaming. It definitely felt like a dream. In his hand he held the mask and the notebook once more. He sat on the sofa and flicked it open. The journal entries were there, and Diego had even added another one, detailing his own arrival. Not a dream then, unless he was still dreaming.


	8. Research Brings Results

**In the middle of TAFE assignments and rental inspections looming, which added to the creative surge for a while, but now I have to knuckle down and work on real life, so the story is still going, but slower. Got a bit stuck too, because I know how I want to end it, the middle is another thing. It will come, but lots of hand written stuff to 'experiment' further. Lol.**

* * *

Chapter 8

Research Brings Results

Debbie found her husband dozing on the sofa in the library with Diego's notebook in his lap. She took it with curiosity and flicked through it, her eyebrows lifting with complete surprise as she read first about her own encounter with Diego and then her husband's. There was nothing further which lead her to believe that this was a notebook that connected them all and they would only be able to read further when more happened.

Diego theorised that the ring had something to do with the travel. And sleep, she realised, every time they had had an encounter someone was out cold. James had been exhausted and probably had fallen asleep, and anyway Diego was writing it all down very scientifically. Debbie was a little shocked, things like this just don't happen. Or they shouldn't.

The ring twinkled on her finger, and the static electricity in the place had zapped her quite hard as she had gotten dressed. It was a good thing she didn't wear nylon stockings. The synthetics in her t shirt were bad enough.

Debbie made some coffee and roused her husband from his sleep. He took the coffee with a thankful smile. Debbie waved the notebook around, and waited for him to respond to her unspoken question.

"I think it might be real. These dreams may be not dreams," James murmured, as he sipped his coffee carefully. "I found a masquerade costume in an old trunk."

"Is it still there? In our world, not Diego's?" James gestured vaguely; he wasn't sure what was real anymore.

Debbie entered and with a little searching she found the trunk. A black silk costume was stored in there, minus a mask. It was basic and fashioned in Diego's time. He was an upper class Spanish ranchero. He must have purchased it for a masked ball held at some time or another. Something tugged at her memory, and she wondered at her lack of memory. It was always photographic. Marriage was making her soft.

Coming out of the secret cave, she glanced at her tired husband. She was restless suddenly. "I think I will go into work today. Not to work, just research," she said. "You can have a good sleep and think about all this logically. The records I have in Grandma Vicki's notes aren't good enough. I want to find out about Diego de la Vega and this house. Or even the local population and their goings on."

"Research is work, isn't it?"

She smiled at her husband. She started organising her work bag, and she made a few sandwiches for herself. "It's not work if you don't get paid, my love. I'm a teacher and the rest of it I do what I am told. The grants only go so far."

She leant over and kissed her husband. "Did you find out about the lab?"

"Apparently he loved making smoke bombs. Hang on, why would he be doing that?"

"Who knows? History of the area may have some leads. If I'm out too long, come look for me," she said, and left. She got her motorbike out to leave him the car, and rode out to the university.

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Debbie greeted her friends with a hugs as she was welcomed back onto the campus. She made her way to her office, and her mind started to focus already. It had been a good plan to come in, she thought, surely her memory would start to tick over properly, away from all the distractions of her handsome husband. Although, she thought, she may have to tell him to shave the moustache. It was very handsome on other men, but she didn't have to kiss them. It tickled far too much for her liking.

She dragged her laptop out of her bag and turned it on. The university's intranet may just be what she was wanting. And she also had access to lots of colleagues that may or may not specialise in Alta California.

"Whatcha doing, Deb?" One of her best friends asked, with a mouthful of food, as she peeped through the door. She watched for a moment as Debbie logged in to her internet access, her fingers a flurry of activity across the keyboard.

"Bit of research," Debbie said, smiling but not looking over to her friend. "Hey Bee?"

"Yeah…"

"You know if anyone is doing anything about Alta California? I think I may be doing a research paper on Los Angeles about that time," Debbie said, swinging the swivel chair to face the door.

"Maybe Sarah, but she may be on the field. She does like the archaeology related to it. Indian relicts that's sort of thing," Bee answered after a moment of thought.

"Might be something she'd like to collaborate on, I was thinking. Personal interest in the de la Vegas and the Vegas, they do have connects to that time period." Debbie swung the chair back to concentrate on what she was doing.

She started up her word processor, and sat back to try to wonder how to start and where to start from. Bee waved a hand, and Debbie responded without looking, with her own wave.

She put a search out for Diego de la Vega, but it was way too vague. A search on "The Guardian" drew a blank. She was confused about the lack of information there, because it was family lore that Diego had founded the paper. Perhaps they were wrong.

She used the intranet to look up several scholarly articles, and discovered something very interesting. The prevalence of bandits in Los Angeles was hardly new information. Most places in California had their share of troublemakers. There was something new – a bandit with an interest in the good of the people. Another researcher had queried his involvement in the development of the pueblo in the early days. A rare sort of bandit who it was believed committed no robberies and upheld law and order. A curious bandit swordsman who, legend had it, had somehow managed not to spill a drop of blood in his campaign to rid the town of corruption and misrule. Very unlikely.

However someone had managed to discover a reward poster of the man in question. A description of the man was found in a letter to the governor. They knew him to be a masked man of around 6 feet in height, blue eyes and a master swordsman and horseman. He had a taste for fine black silk and a cape, and his weapon of choice was a sabre, probably fashioned out of Toledo steel. He name was Zorro.

She knew a man of 6 foot stature, with a mask and a cape, both made of black silk. There was a well-crafted sabre of Toledo steel in the secret cave. She thought of a quote, it was floating around in her head. Someone famous had spoken of a fox and a lion, in political arenas.

Ah yes. Napoleon had said it. "I know when it is necessary, how to leave the skin of lion to take one of fox." She wasn't sure when or why he had said it, but it seemed very strategic. It probably meant the lion's strength and the fox's cunning. Not that her main interest was European conquests. Her field of expertise was much closer to home, where her interests lay.

At last she found something worth looking at. Records of early Los Angeles, about 1813, revealed that Alejandro de la Vega welcomed his son Diego back from Spain, and managed to get himself arrested on the same day. Along with Victoria Escalante, he was imprisoned without trial in the local garrison jail. Somehow they were rescued by Zorro, on his first documented appearance, and then the next day they were again rescued, this time from the scaffold.

All subsequent records of Diego were that he was a great help in the pueblo and a godsend to the local farmers and the local doctor also had a good word to say about the man. The local Padre had praised him to his superiors in letter form extravagantly. But other records suggested that he was unable to fight or to take up arms against anyone, as comments from the collected letters of the wealthy rancheros stated.

The odds for that, Debbie thought, were very far-fetched. The man seemed to have many swords, secreted away in the cave. He had smoke grenades of some sort, which suggested strategy and bloodless victory. Even the way the de la Vegas were known to be swordsmen and horsemen, and the fact that it seemed to skip Diego when every other generation, including the modern one, lived for horses and were fascinated by sword play, seemed to be unlikely.

Diego had been playing an interesting game, and had gotten away with it. A bandit who was also the richest man in California, or was close enough. An early variation of Batman, she mused, remembering his curiosity when she mentioned the name. A Batman with his secret lair. She would have a lot to talk to him about, next time she saw him.


	9. Rescued

Rescued

James spent the day tidying up the Fox's hidden lair. With a soft cloth, he polished the rich wood of the desk, and examined the set of swords on the wall rack.

He tried the rapier, moving swiftly in an old practiced move. His old days at fencing club were a distant memory, from university days, but his muscle memory was pretty much there. If he practiced he could achieve his old standard of being ok but not great. Elena was the one that won the medals in their family now. He wondered what his twin sister would think of all this.

Debbie had gone back to work, enthusiasm for her work driving a little too much dedication to detail. He would have preferred her to take a little more time off, but he respected her career. She was becoming well known in her field, and although it didn't interest her as long as she was left in peace, he was pleased. Funding of her whims and private projects would be well funded, and humoured, and she would be happy in her tangents.

He had placed the masquerade costume on the old hat stand, and it looked strangely as if it belonged there. The finely crafted sabre hung on its sheath from its original belt, and looked as identical to the set up James had seen in the old cave.

He examined it now, and felt the silk. He wondered how it would feel to wear such clothes, and it was as if something coaxed him to change into the outfit. He had slipped the shirt on before he had realised what he was doing. It felt unusually warm to the touch, and he reached for the rest of the clothes as if he did it every day.

He paused, and caught sight of himself in the tarnished mirror. He hadn't put the long cape on, but he was an exact copy of what Zorro would have looked like. He smoothed the fabric a little, and reached for the bandana style mask. It wouldn't hurt to just see the costume in its entirety. Static buzzed at his fingers, and something felt wrong. Something felt dangerous. He shrugged. What was so dangerous? It wasn't night time, he wasn't drowsy in the slightest. There was no chance of travelling back to Diego's time, not right now.

The moment his fingers had tied the knot, he knew he had done a stupid thing. The environment shimmered and a drone buzzed in his ears, making him cover his eyes and shut his eyes tightly.

He was somewhere in the open, and there was noise around him. A dusty treeless plain bordered by rocky outcrops confronted his eyes when he dared to open them. The noise came from a group of three men firing enthusiastically into the air. Bandits…he theorised. Their clothes would suggest it…the wide brimmed hats, and the way they were whooping with joy…

They turned around, suddenly aware that they were not alone, and James stood completely still, hoping that they couldn't see him. Their pistols were old looking, but seemed to be working very well. To his surprise, their leader went completely white, and dropped both his guns in the dirt -his closest offsider crossed himself, in abject terror. James was sure neither of them went anywhere near a church. They stood frozen, and James was the first one to move. He grabbed the heavy sabre with his right hand, and pulled it out smoothly.

"Zorro…it's his ghost…" The leader of the bandits shrieked, and all of them ran for their horses. James turned and watched them go.

Zorro…Had they killed him? James put the sword away, and strode quickly where they had been riotously celebrating.

The masked man in black was face down in bloodstained dirt. James knelt beside him, and turned him over carefully. He was still warm. A skilled motion told James that Zorro was still alive, a skilled glance made him realise that perhaps it was temporary. Blood oozed from a wound in his chest.

"Zorro," James said, gently shaking his ancestor. Blood coated his hand, and there was no response. He rolled him into the recovery position and sat beside him.

Diego needed a hospital. He could save him with the right equipment. Zorro had lost a lot of blood, but he had saved worst cases. If he could only take him back with him…

He would only survive for a short time, he knew. The lung had probably been pierced, and he was probably drowning in his own blood, suffocating slowly. James was vaguely pleased that the man was unconscious – he would feel no pain or discomfort at all as he slowly bled to death.

He found himself taking off the mask from the cave, the one he wore, and as he held Zorro's shoulder with one hand, his other hand pushed the silk fabric into his ancestor's limp hand, forcing the hand to close around it. He took great care to not touch the mask again, as he hoped against reason that something would happen.

"Come on," James whispered. "I need this. We need the hospital. Come on." He sighed, nothing was happening. He slowly eased Zorro's glove from his right hand, and managed to enclose a naked fist around the fabric. Static started to buzz and James smiled.

The familiar buzz of the emergency room at the hospital began to filter into his consciousness, and he glanced around. No one seemed to notice him at first.

"Ian!" He called, seeing his colleague bustle past him. "I need some help here!"

"James, what on earth are you doing?"

"My…my cousin. He's been shot. Help me," James said softly. Ian was staring at him with confusion. James was suddenly aware of a few other eyes on him as well.

"I need help with him. Bullet to the lung," he added. It brought him his help quickly.

There was a rush of activity and assessments, and Zorro was placed on a hospital bed. Tubes of oxygen and monitors were attached, and James was interested and comforted with the reasonably strong vitals coming through on the monitors. He had found him quickly and acted in time.

He watched as skilled emergency staff began to wheel his ancestor towards the right treatment rooms. They had reacted professionally and expertly, and he was relieved.

"Are you going to tell me why you are both in fancy dress, James?"

"How about we deal with that later? You're the best surgeon we have, would you help him?"

"Of course…I will need that story…" He was already moving. James sighed with relief, and knew the surgery would probably go well.


	10. A Family Affair

A Family Affair

James waited in the staff room, aware that Diego's surgery was taking place in the operating theatre. Ian was a great surgeon and a first rate friend, but he paced the room all the same. It was not as if the wound was that dangerous to deal with in a modern hospital, but he had been so still, so deeply unconscious he wondered if that had been the only injury.

Debbie rushed into the room, and froze when she saw him. Then she dashed into the room, and threw her arms around him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, when he could breathe again. It felt as if his ribs would at least crack under the pressure of her hug.

"Sue said she saw you in emergency – on life support," Deb said. She was shaking a little as she released him. "Thank goodness…"

She sat abruptly on a seat, and he automatically began to make some instant coffee.

"I have to tell you something…"

"Me too," Deb interrupted. "Elena is coming as well. She should be here in a minute."

"Really? Elena…"

"She's going to hate me," Deb said with a slight chuckle. "You know how busy she is right now. She is in the middle of that Pulitzer prize story about drug smugglers or something…"

"She always is," James said with annoyance. "Sue must have seen Diego," he added.

"Diego?"

"Diego de la Vega," James said, watching her eyes. Ian approached the staff room, looking tired but pleased with himself. "You know, Debbie, my cousin…from South America?"

"Your cousin from South America is doing very well, James. I have never seen a fitter man on my operating table. He should make a rapid and complete recovery," Ian said proudly. "Curious little bullet though…"

"Really? Have you got it with you?" James said, watching Debbie carefully. He wanted to stall her questions, and perhaps answer them at the same time.

"Yes, here," the surgeon said, tossing a small ziplock bag his way. "Funny sort of evidence for the police…"

James glanced at it with curiosity before handing it to Debbie. Asking Ian if he needed a coffee, as he finished making the hot drinks for himself and Debbie, he nodded as Ian refused.

Debbie's eyebrows went up with surprise, as she glanced at the tiny metal object, and she turned it over and over in her hand for a few moments.

"This isn't a bullet, guys. This is a pistol ball."

"Like a cannon ball? Come on, that's stupid. It can't be," Ian said.

"My first thesis covered basic weaponry, I should know what I'm talking about," she muttered. "Prestine condition. The bad guys are history buffs now?"

"Where are the bad guys?" A soft feminine voice with an edge to it announced the presence of Elena Vega before she turned the corner. "Hello, James. I thought she might have been mixed up…"

"You'll never believe this, Elena," Ian said, coming forward to give her a quick hug, secretly enjoying holding the beautiful woman in his arms if only for a few seconds. "Your cousin is an exact double of your brother. Weird, right?"

"Very weird," Elena said softly. She stood quite tall, coming up to Ian's shoulders, and with her athletic build she was very slender. Wearing a white dress shirt and a pair of well made blue denim trousers, she made a semi professional, but at the same time, very alluring picture. James knew the effect his twin had on most of the men around her. With her cascading black curls, and piercing green eyes, she should have been in the beauty industry – probably as a supermodel or some sort of actress. She was too wild to be guided by anything but her own interests, which were namely all things horses, swords, and reenactments. She was also a natural when it came to investigative journalism, and dabbled in self defence of all kinds.

James felt her eyes study him for a moment. They both knew Uncle Robert had died without issue. She was curious about the new information.

"Not sure the paper would be interested, Elena," James said abruptly.

"Probably not, but pistol ball bullets and doubles of my brother are a matter for my personal curiosity at least. When can I meet this man? What is he doing getting hit with pistol balls in the first place? Where has he been all this time?"

"Well, I am busy," Ian said, aware of the tension building in the room. "I'll catch you later. Diego is in the recovery room, but he shouldn't be waking any time soon."

Ian left the room, and James went across and closed the door behind his friend, turning the knob to lock it. Elena was folding her arms now, and glaring at him.

"Diego de la Vega…is in the recovery room? James, not THE Diego de la Vega…"

"There was a glitch or something in the cave and I found him, bleeding to death," James said softly. "I couldn't just leave him there. I'm a doctor, I made oaths. He needed help."

"Of course. You did the right thing, James, of course you did."

"What is going on?"

"Elena, you have a lot to do."

"My staffers can look after the horses. I don't have a fencing drill for anyone until tomorrow afternoon," Elena said. "This sounds as if it is worth the paper's attention."

"I need to see him," Debbie said softly. "If he wakes up…he'll be very disorientated, James. A lot has happened since…you know?"

James nodded. Elena's right eyebrow shifted a little.

"Fine, we'll all go to see him, shall we?" James frowned at his twin sister. "It's a free country, James, last time I checked."

"If you cause our cousin any distress, and I have every right to eject you from the room," James said.

"I'm not out to hurt anyone, James," she responded quietly.

Zzzz

As they approached the recovery room, a nurse cautioned them and reminded them of the rule of two people at the most at any one time, and Elena was foiled before she had a chance.

"You can have a look from the window over there," James said, realising that his sister was going to have a look at some stage. "It's really not a big deal."

Debbie followed him into the room. "Not a big deal? Your 6th great grandfather is unconscious in a 21st century hospital and it's not a big deal?" She whispered at her husband.

"The less she knows the better," James said softly. "We're already in somewhat of a muddle as it is. We don't want to officially make it any worse. Diego is going to wake in a panic. What it will do to blood pressure is anyone's guess."

James looked around him. There was absolutely nothing recognisable that would ground a 19th century person in the room. The flooring was lino, the blankets were a polyester cotton mix, the lights were all electric, and that was only the basics. The constant hum of machinery and the occasional bleeping alerts would freak most 21st century people out, as they returned to consciousness. Diego was a strong man, and by all accounts very well able to defend himself. What sort of danger could result in him being in here? They just would have to keep him calm. James thought for a moment. Most importantly they would have to limit his involvement with Elena.


	11. Diego's Questions

Diego's Questions

James had sent Debbie home to bed, and insisted on staying close to Diego. Elena made her way over to him and sat on the chair next to him.

"Elena…"

"What is going on? Robert didn't have any children," Elena said.

"How are we to know? He went missing, didn't he? He loved Argentina. Why not?"

"Feasible if you want to invent someone's identity," she said softly.

She glanced down at the unconscious man. Without a shirt, Diego de la Vega was even more striking than otherwise. Elena noticed old scars, and fresh injuries and bruises. Definitely a very active man, she mused. His upper arms were very well developed, and he had the build of an athlete.

"Is he a swordsman?"

"How do I know? I only just met the man the other day." James tried to ignore her.

"He reminds me of someone."

"That would be me, I think."

"No," she said crossly. She shook her head. "For twins, we really don't like each other much do we?"

"I'm too busy to fuss with all the nonsense you claim is your life," James said softly. "You can't just keep being selfish and pigheaded all your life."

"He reminds me of one of my first boyfriends," she murmured, not listening to him at all. "My sword master, if you must know. He won gold at national and international level – even an Olympic gold."

"Interesting. Haven't you got somewhere else to be?"

Elena smiled. "Hush," she said. "I think he is waking up…" She murmured, watching as Diego's right hand twitched a little.

James got to his feet immediately, and went to the bedside. Elena stepped back, and watched the scene carefully.

"Diego," James said. "It's alright. You're safe. It's James."

Elena saw the man's eyes flicker open, and glance wildly around for a moment, finally focusing on James. The fear went out of his eyes immediately, and they were bright and curious.

"Where am I, James?"

"I got you to hospital. We saved you. Everything is going to be alright," James said. Elena moved a little closer, and the blue eyes shifted their focus to her.

"Victoria…" He blinked, and sighed. "Wrong eyes…Now I know the feeling."

"You're speaking Spanish," Elena said, and sat down on the chair. "Where do you live?"

Diego hesitated, and looked at James as if for help.

"South America," Diego said softly, switching to English. He sounded a little unsure of himself, Elena thought. Maybe it was a lie, but it was also a huge generalisation.

"Argentina. Uncle Robert was always going to Argentina," James said, guiding his ancestor.

"Yes, that's right. My father travelled to Argentina, and that's where I was born," Diego said, trying to think on his feet.

"This is my sister, Elena Vega. Her professional name is Ellen Hixson."

"What do you do, Diego?" Elena asked softly.

Diego glanced at James, and back at Elena.

"I run a cattle ranch," he said, opting for truth above anything else. He could remember the truth. "I work at a small newspaper office."

"A journalist?" Elena nodded. "It explains everything."

"It does?" Diego said softly. "Good." He sounded a little doubtful.

"The shooting was connected to the newspaper you work on," Elena said. "They want you dead so that what you know will not be revealed. Happens a lot in this town."

"Really?"

"I should know. I am a free lancer myself," she said proudly. "Hence the name change. No one would take me very seriously if they realised I was the daughter of the owner of the Los Angeles Guardian."

"I suppose not," Diego said, a little lost. He glanced at James, his eyes confused.

"Diego's blood pressure is unstable, Elena. How about you visit in visiting hours?" James suggested, using a medical lie to shoo her away. She was awfully excited over Diego. Diego was already incredibly confused.

Elena nodded and was already heading for the door.

"What was she talking about?"

"She's a reporter," James said. A blank look came over Diego's face. "She writes for the newspapers, and specialises in exposing dangerous people."

"That's not good."

"No."

"You said I was in a hospital? I don't have to stay too long, do I? People die in hospitals, they aren't the healthiest places," Diego said softly, so that only they could hear. James looked a little surprised.

"Oh, that's right. Los Angeles didn't have a hospital just yet, did it?"

"No. Other places did, and the number of deaths in them was terrible. People only go to hospital to die, basically."

"Well, our hospital is better," James said a little concerned. "The death rates dropped soon after reforms were made, shortly before the end of the century." It was like explaining the concept to a worried little child. "There are a lot of medicines…do you have needles, syringes, where you come from?"

"Syringes?"

"A very fine needle, with a hollow centre, pierces the skin and it delivers medicine directly to the bloodstream. It's operated by a pump like device," James said. He wished he could rattle off the history of medicine. Diego was very interested, and trying to follow what he had to say. Diego's eyes were lit up with interest. "Something about Pascal's work with hydraulics."

"That's revolutionary," Diego said. "It would have changed medicine forever," he added. "Pascal was brilliant."

"It did. Various other reforms followed it. Penicillin was a great advance – it eradicates infection so fast… Even washing hands has saved lives over time."

"So many people died…of simple things. Women and children die of infections a lot where I come from."

Ian strode over, startling them a little, and smiled down at them. He had overheard a little of the conversation. "You must be very hard up in South America. I know many regions don't have hospitals at all, and the ones they do have are very substandard."

"He comes from Argentina."

"Of course, Robert Vega was always dashing down to Argentina."

"I want to take Diego back to my house soon, Ian. When will he be fit for it?"

"Your home? I suppose that's ok, but I want to keep an eye on this guy for a few more hours. I'll discharge him in 24, if you like."

"Sounds good."

Ian checked the monitors and the charts and left again.

"What are those things on my chest, James?" Diego had only just realised that there were things on his chest, and his hand moved to remove them.

"They're important. Don't take them off," James said. "See that thing over to your right?"

Diego glanced over at the monitor. "There's a moving line. How does that work?"

"I have no idea," James said with a shrug. "It measures your heart beat."

"Why?"

"Doctors can help if your heart goes out of rhythm, or stops…" Diego's eyes were terrified for a moment, before he took a breath to think about the concept.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"You play with life and death?"

"If we can save someone? Why not?"

Diego was glancing at the floor. "Did you have to restart my heart?"

"No. You were only shot in the chest. Ian repaired the damage, and we gave you blood transfusions to compensate the loss of blood. There is no chance for infections, as everything in the hospital is completely sterilised."

"Sterilised?"

"Germs travel…Do you know about germs?"

Diego shook his head.

James sighed, and chuckled. "Medicine has come a long way. You are perfectly safe in this hospital, Diego. I will get you a private room, and bunk down on a folding bed. I won't leave you for a second."

"You are doing a lot for me."

"I'm a doctor. I take my job seriously. Besides, you're family…"

"I suppose I am," Diego murmured. "James," he said softly. James could hear fear in his voice.

"What is it?" James was wondering what he had to explain this time. He had covered history, ethics, and goodness knows else. What else was there?

"How do I get back home?"


End file.
